


Dawn

by quiet__tiger



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Pre-Slash, rooftop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-10-22 18:51:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10703001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quiet__tiger/pseuds/quiet__tiger
Summary: Bruce wants to enjoy a moment to himself, but Superman's interruption isn't totally terrible.





	Dawn

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: "Dog Days."
> 
> Originally posted to Livejournal Aug. 22nd, 2011.

Perhaps he spent too much time on rooftops, but there was something soothing about the height when it was one’s own roof and not someone else’s in the middle of the city. The roof deck on the top of Wayne Manor was very different from Bruce’s usual haunts in Gotham; here there was no noise, no light, no industrial scents, and no anticipation of an immediate need for action, or sense of urgency.

Just a rooftop, a padded lounge chair, a pitcher of iced tea, and time and ability to meditate.

Without moving his head or body, Bruce opened his eyes to the stars when he heard the flutter of a cape coming from behind him, from the west. He hadn’t received an alert from the Justice League, so odds were the Boy Scout was planning on landing on his roof.

Sure enough, a few seconds later boots—surely bright and red and gigantic—landed near him. A man couldn’t even enjoy a hot summer night on his own roof without someone crashing the party. …It was a quiet, rather lonely little party, but it was the principle of the thing. He wanted quiet time in the fresh—albeit muggy—nighttime air.

“Hi, Bruce. Taking a night off from patrol?”

“I was out earlier. One advantage of having a team I organize is that I can make them take over when I’m unable to do my own patrols.”

“Or when it’s ridiculously hot and you’d rather not pose on a rooftop sweating through all your armor.” Bruce could almost hear Superman cock his head. “You’re still on a rooftop, though.”

“It’s peaceful up here. And I can watch the sunrise.” Superman didn’t say anything, and for some reason Bruce felt the need to continue. “As ludicrous as it sounds, the mansion can feel restrictive at times, especially during difficult cases.” Finally sitting up to look at his visitor, Bruce continued, “The view of Gotham is also beautiful. Sometimes I need this perspective to really _see_ what it is I’m doing.” The ‘better view from further away’ paradox, such as it was.

Superman—Kal—watched him for a second, no sign of the expected friendly-yet-goofy-smile. “Can I join you?”

Bruce gestured towards the generally unused stack of lounge chairs, and Superman took one. He unfolded it carefully, no doubt expecting the discounted Ikea patio set to be some sort of Wayne heirloom, and set it near Bruce’s.

The sky—dark except for the irregular polka dot distribution of the stars and the glow from Gotham—would soon pinken in the east. Sirius would be visible briefly, only to be washed away by Sol. A new day would start soon, and Bruce Wayne would return to the board room and pretend to be bored while planning which people around him would be promoted soon, and which were destined to be stuck in their current positions. He had a round of golf planned, and had a surprise tour of one of his plants scheduled.

Then he’d return to his current case, the one he’d been pondering before Superman dropped by. A drug ring run by _someone_ who knew what he or she was doing. Shell companies, dead end paper trails, and no slipups other than the one he’d discovered two nights ago.

But for now, now he was sitting here enjoying the quiet, the calm, the weight off his chest knowing his team—they weren’t sidekicks, not really—was protecting his—their—city.

“I used to do this.” Quiet, that is, until Superman spoke.

“Do what?”

“Sit on the roof. The Kansas summers could be deathly hot. We didn’t have air conditioning, and fans could only do so much. Sometimes I just had to get onto the roof to catch a breeze so I could breathe. And then when my parents told me about where I was from, well… It was all I could do to get that much closer to where I came from. First it was the roof of the farmhouse, then when I could jump really high it was the roof of the barn.”

Superman smiled deprecatingly. “When I got over some of my fear of heights I would climb this windmill a few farms over. There wasn’t much to look at except flatness and farmland, but that was still an amazing view for a kid who thought he wouldn’t get much farther than the farm. It represented hope somehow, that there was more to the world than Smallville, and it was also a place to get away from everything.” Being a teenaged alien couldn’t have been easy. “But then of course when I learned how to fly…” He shrugged.

“You go up into space. Where you can’t hear anyone and you can’t see onto the surface. It’s the only way you can truly be alone. At peace.”

“It’s hard to get away when you have powers like mine.”

They drifted back into a comfortable silence as the sun began to peek over the horizon. Bruce turned to look at Superman just in time to catch his tiny smile—no doubt he could already feel the rays recharging his body. Bruce wondered what it was like to react to something like that, to have an instant upswing of energy by solely natural and ever-present means. He’d be jealous except he knew how hard Superman crashed when he was paralyzed by green Kryptonite and wasn’t able to recharge. Superman’s body was amazing and horrible all at once.

When the sun was fully visible, Superman stood, cape flowing out behind him in the breeze. The angle of the sun created a slight glow to the already-bright costume. There was something strange about sitting next to Superman dressed in one’s lounge shorts and a sleeveless t-shirt.

Lifting himself three inches off the ground, Superman said, “I should head back to Metropolis. Clark Kent has three interviews scheduled for this morning and a late lunch with the curator of the Metropolis Museum of Art.”

“Bruce Wayne should probably get ready for his day, too.”

“You own the place. You can afford to be late. Take in the rest of this sunrise and enjoy some time to yourself, especially since I intruded. It’s not like you haven’t earned it.”

“You didn’t intrude.”

“Good night, Bruce. Or morning. I’m sure I’ll talk to you soon, business or pleasure.”

Bruce was about to say that all of their interactions were business, but then he thought better of it. Superman viewed them as friends, and Bruce supposed they were. Certainly no one else casually dropped by the Manor just because he or she wanted to. Especially not if they didn’t want anything from him.

Superman –Clark—raised his hand in valediction and flew off, red cape and blue costume blinking out of sight in seconds. Bruce leaned forward and reached for his tea, the glass no longer wet with condensation.

He’d give himself another two minutes to enjoy the early morning before getting ready for the office. A little more time to contemplate his case and his day. A little more time to enjoy the day before he was frozen by the air conditioning or sweating outdoors in the August heat. A little more time to appreciate solitude.

On second thought, perhaps Clark was right.

An argument could be made for Bruce Wayne not getting to the office too early. Another for taking a little longer to wrap his mind around his case. Another for enjoying the stillness of a beautiful summer morning while he could take the opportunity to do so. Another for giving the sun the chance to wake him up the way it did Clark. Another for taking the advice of a colleague and friend.

~*~

No one even noticed he was a half hour later than normal to the office.

But a couple people noticed his smile seemed more genuine than usual.


End file.
